The Runaway Luna

EL'S

e my cabin or the pine pitch I used to scrub them at the hearth, even stronger than the bite of fro

f the branches. Behind me, sleeping, is the girl

ve seen enough hurt wolves in my time to recognize when the body is ready to let go. But hers? She appears to be

blaming it on the frost wolves that prowl the borders. That's exactly wha

sed my fingers to her throat, something shif

, the Shadowborn mothers who gave birth to sons who, with a single growl, could shift, heal, and bind wounds. Next came the "Lost Daughters," an ancient myth so old that real

ded before they all disappeared wi

easant one for puppies who dream of queens a

irl's pulse, and my bones echoed. The bond spo

up beneath my brother's wolfskin cloak, which nearly engulfs her petite frame with its thi

new lattice on her wrists where the iron sank the deep

, but this girl's wounds cling like shadows. They close, but not quickly enough, as they are desperate for warmth that she doesn't have. The priests used to whisper that the

girl; the way her breath curls feebly ag

t of pitch and resin, which is believed to be beneficial for preventing sickness. I learned that traditional method of avoiding illness from

ndara girl, I tighten my

ware of it; they talk about his strength, how he can control the storms when he shifts, and how the

n man and wolf, flesh and bone, until he tastes iron in his lungs. The ancient name for it is the

into him, in addition to carrying the pup; furthermore, no she-wolf has ever made it through ma

del of Ironhold, Third Sub-Kingdom, and if any of my adversaries saw me bowing ove

a lock aside, I feel a spark of heat beneath my palm, not the warmth of fle

cults, my father's scribes destroyed the majority of the scrolls, but I continued

nd if you find her, she will hiss and weave bramble crowns into

to my feet and make myself s

rough veins that have been frozen. Pandara creates too many false impressions of shattered

nger to approach him. When I brought her in, half-frozen and bleeding, he licked

ricks at

eed the truth, not scraps of stories cl

at my face, sharp with pine sap. I see two guards standing sti

Seers from Hollow Glen-tell them Ironhold demands their haste; if any

yes widen. "All of th

w. Before her heart stops

y, and I take a breath. Like an ancient ghost, the

med." Under Vartun's crest, twelve sub-kingdoms are entrusted with delivering a daughter for the mate-blood binding.

odline worthy of this cycle. That is, until tonight, when the B

d, Ghost touches Pearl's palm where his nose slipped

nd soothe the bruised veins, and let her sk

ne this time. I'll peel back every lie Pandara buri

r in the process if the old tales run through her womb, as I believe th

mixed silverthorn draught and pulled the stopper from an iron flask. I pour a capful and gently press i

think. Good g

er clothes are now tattered rags, and they carefully remove them to avoid new scabs. They wash her slowly while whispering half-blessings older than any priest's scroll, a

rth after they're done; I stayed there fo

ses his muzzle, his ears quivering in th

the lost ghost of Pandara, or

I swear I can hear the B